


Say Uncle

by butterflyfly



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-16
Updated: 2015-06-16
Packaged: 2018-04-04 15:18:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4142637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/butterflyfly/pseuds/butterflyfly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Draco shows his softer side, and no good deed goes unpunished.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Say Uncle

Little Rose Weasley stood in the middle of Diagon Alley, witches and wizards swarming past her, carrying cauldrons and potion ingredients and familiars, and towing shouting children behind them. Her mother had been right behind her a minute ago.  She’d stopped for just a moment to get a closer look at a new broom in the shop window, and now she was Lost.

 

She stood on her tiptoes looking for a familiar face, cursing being short and seven and too irresponsible to stay with the group.  Daddy would yell and Mom would lecture and Cousin James would tease her forever about getting Lost and being a baby about it.  But that was only if she ever _found_ them again, and if she didn’t, she’d just be homeless and alone and probably die from exposure or starvation or being mauled by a wild animal.

 

Tears trickling down her face, she turned around and ran for the Weasley Wizard Wheezes shop at the end of the street. If she could just make it there, they would know how to contact Uncle George.  Then her parents could come find her and she wouldn’t be Lost any more.

 

She made it halfway down the block before she saw Daddy’s red hair above the crowd, heading down a side alley. She ran after him, shouting, but he didn’t stop.  He twisted through the alleys and side streets, walking too fast for her to catch up. When he finally stopped and she was able to catch his sleeve, bending over to catch her breath, the man looked down at her and she realized it wasn’t her father at all.  In fact his hair wasn’t quite so red as auburn, and he had a scraggly beard, and from the expression he turned on her, he wasn’t all that friendly either.

 

Rose shook her head and backed up, realizing in an instant that she’d followed the strange man far away from Diagon Alley, and she wasn’t quite sure how to get back.  It was less crowded here, but dark and dingy, with most of the storefronts boarded up. The people hanging around the shops were dirty and mean-looking, and they leered at her as she turned around and around, trying to get her bearings.

 

“Need something love?” an old man cackled at her from across the street, and for some reason she got the feeling that helping her was the last thing on his mind.  She shook her head, taking off in a run in the other direction. She was so busy looking behind her to make sure he wasn’t following her that she ran smack into someone else.

 

The impact set her sprawling on her bottom in a puddle, and the cold, wet, muddiness of it, combined with the trauma of being even more Lost than before had her bursting back into tears.

 

“Watch where you’re going!” a low voice growled at her.

 

She looked up and saw a tall, blonde man turning around to face her.  He looked familiar, like she’d seen him before, but his scowl was even scarier than the creepy old man from before.

 

“I-I’m sorry, sir,” she squeaked out, staring at him. As his gaze swept down to her, the scowl fell away, replaced by confusion.

 

“One of the shopkeeper’s children?” he muttered to himself. “Stand up girl. You ought to be old enough to look where you’re going.”

 

“Y-yes, sir,” she said, trying to pull herself to her feet, but wincing when she put any weight on her left ankle. “I-I don’t think I can.”

 

The blonde man crouched down next the puddle, studying her with his gray eyes.  “What is your name?”

 

“Rose, sir.  Rose Weasley.”

 

His nose wrinkled at that, as if he’d smelled something nasty.  Maybe it was the mud. “A Weasley, of course. That explains the hair. Although not necessarily so much of it.” His gaze flickered. “Don’t tell me you’re Granger’s daughter?”

 

“What’s a Granger?” she asked.

 

His lips quirked.  “Your mother, is her name Hermione?”

 

She nodded, relief washing over her. “Yes!  Do you know my Mom?  I can’t find her, and I got Lost,” she whispered, confessing her shameful secret. “I’m going to be in so much trouble!”

 

//

Draco stared down at the unfortunate offspring of two of his least favorite people.  “Yes, well, good luck with that,” he told her, rising to his feet and starting to walk away.

 

“Wait!” she called, and when he glanced back he saw she was trying to crawl after him.  “Aren’t you going to help me?”

 

“No,” he said, and turned around. He wondered what a kid like her was doing in Knockturn Alley in the first place.  Well, no matter.  No doubt her parents were just inside one of the stores, and they’d find her within moments.  No need for him to interfere. He stepped into a store to have a quick chat with the proprietor, but he couldn’t help sneaking glances at the chit while he did.  He didn’t see Granger or the Weasel rush out to help and scold her.  What he did see was her crawling to a wall, and trying to use it as leverage to pull herself to her feet.  She tried a couple times, but she fell every time she tried to stand on her left leg.

 

By the third try, he’d lost his patience. What was wrong with her parents, leaving her alone like that?  He cut off in the middle of his conversation, rushed out the door, and caught the brat just as she was crashing to the ground again.  He swept the tiny little thing into his arms, shushing as she squealed in fright. In that moment, she wasn’t the cursed offspring of his enemies, but just a scared little girl.

 

“Which store are your parents in?” he asked her, once she’d gotten a look at his face and stopped panicking.

 

“I don’t know,” she said.  “Last time I saw Mom we were leaving Flourish & Botts.”

 

“In Diagon Alley?”  She’d wandered a long way off then.  “How on earth did you end up here?”

 

She told him about following a man who turned out not to be her father, sniffling pathetically and wiping her snotty nose on his once-pristine robes.  Which, given the wet, muddy state of her, were getting more soiled by the second.

 

“Come on, then,” he said, giving in with a sigh. “Let’s find them.”

 

And that’s how he ended up trudging through the crush in Diagon Alley, a pint-size version of Granger cuddled up under his chin with her arms wrapped around his neck, searching for two of his least favorite wizards in the world.

 

“What’s your name?” she asked him as she clutched his robes tighter in her grimy fist.

 

“Draco Malfoy.”

 

“Oh,” she said, looking up at him with huge rounded blue eyes.  “I think I’m supposed to stay away from you.”

 

“Probably,” he agreed.

 

He watched her bite her lip, the wheels clearly turning in her head.  “Could you maybe not tell Daddy that you saw me?”

 

Just then, his eyes caught sight of a sea of redheads, including the Weasel himself, patting the shoulder of a distraught Granger.  “Something tells me he’s going to find out,” he said, heading toward her parents and cursing himself for not leaving the chit crying in the mud.

 

“I don’t understand how this could happen!” the only female member of the Golden Trio cried, wiping her eyes. “I just took my eyes off of her for a second, and she was gone!”

 

“Lose something, Granger?” Draco asked, stepping up to them.

 

“What the hell do you want Mal—” the Weasel cut himself off as he looked back and forth between his daughter and his enemy.  “Huh?”

 

Granger looked up then, and let out a sob as she nearly snatched her daughter out of his arms and into her own. “Rose Weasley, you are in big trouble, young lady!”

 

“What the hell were you doing with my daughter, ferret?”  The Weasel had apparently regained his ability to speak, and decided to use it to accuse Draco of who knew what.

 

“What the hell were you doing losing her in the first place?” he demanded back, sliding his hands into the pocket of his robes. He noticed the other Weasley siblings in the crowd turning to them, ready to engage, and realized he was outnumbered and not really in the mood for this fight anyway.  Shaking his head, muttering about no good deed going unpunished, he turned away to find his wife and his own child, who should just about be done with their errands by now. 

 

He only made it a few steps before a hand caught his shoulder.  “Wait!”

 

He turned around and saw Granger in front of him, Rose curled up in her arms.  “Thank you,” she said, her voice still warbly from tears.  “I don’t know what we would’ve done if—” She took a deep breath. “I’m not sure how we can repay you.”

 

His eyes met hers, and he was surprised to see there was no resentment behind her words.  She wasn’t forcing herself to thank him, despite their past. She was just thanking him. “No need,” he said with a slight tip of his head.  He’d just done what any parent would do.

 

“Rose, say thank you to Mr. Malfoy for bringing you back to us,” she instructed, tugging on the little girl’s hair.

 

The girl gave him a huge smile, all too much hair and intelligent blue eyes.  “Thanks, Uncle Draco!”

 

He sputtered, for the first time in his life.

 

Four years later, she sought him out on Platform 9¾, again greeting him with a big smile.  “Hi, Uncle Draco!” she called out, skipping over.  “I’m finally going to Hogwarts, I’m so excited! I hope I get sorted into Griffyndor like Mom and Daddy and Uncle Harry and Aunt Ginny and Cousin James! Is this your son?” she asked, gesturing to Scorpius who was staring at her like she had two heads. “Hi, I’m Rose! Mom said you’re going to be a first year like me.”

 

“Pleased to meet you,” his son replied, the epitome of his mother’s manners and good breeding.  “Scorpius Malfoy.”

 

“Wow,” she said.  “That’s a mouthful.  Can I call you Scorp?  Let’s go find a seat.”

 

She dragged his bewildered son off to the train, but not before she wrapped her arms around Draco’s waist, giving him a squeeze. “Bye again, Uncle Draco! I’ll take good care of Scorp for you!”

 

He bit back a smile as the little whirlwind spun away in her tizzy.

 

“Uncle Draco?”

 

He shook his head, wrapping an arm around his amused wife.  “Don’t ask.”

 

He saw a lot of her after that day, as Rose and his son seemed determined to end the blood feud between their families and prove that a Slytherin and a Griffyndor could be friends. 

 

The day Rose Weasley finally stopped calling him “Uncle” was her wedding day, when she started calling him “Dad,” instead.

 

Draco didn’t admit it to very many people, but he thought his son had very good taste, indeed.


End file.
